Posted in Creative Writing


We don’t all have oceans
in our eyes
nor deep blue boundless skies

Our eyes aren’t forest canopies
though we steady the trees
beneath a blanket of the rich
spongy moss

Yes, our eyes are roots
to hold fast our hearts
and steady them in the
rich fertile soil
of rain-splashed forest floors

Our eyes are the feathers
of a baby wren first learning to fly
as we give our minds wings

They’re the colour of my hair,
brittle, unmanageable
and my skin
lined and scared
but they are beautiful


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